


these twists and turns of fate

by water_poet



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alive Georgie Denbrough, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Birdwatching, Crush at First Sight, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gay, Holding Hands, Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rain, Stuttering, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_poet/pseuds/water_poet
Summary: Bill first saw the boy of his dreams through an open window a few blocks from his house when their eyes met for three seconds and Bill sprinted off down the street.He met him six months later when the boy fell headfirst out of a tree and nearly killed them both





	these twists and turns of fate

**Author's Note:**

> AKA Bill runs home and is nearly squished by Stan falling out of a tree during a bird watching session. It starts to rain and the two boys run to Stan's house (which is closer), and start to fall in love
> 
> No Evil AU

The forecast called for rain, and for once Bill thought it was right. The sky had faded to a dim grey in the span of the last twenty minutes, and he had no desire to catch a cold two days before exams began.  
  
The wind picked up and Bill clutched at the sides of his hood, trying to keep it stationary around his head.

It smelled like rain, too, he noted. The earthy, woody scent he'd come to recognize was all around him.

Any other day he would have taken the main road, but judging by the ever darkening sky, he didn't have time to do so.

Begrudgingly, he turned off the street and into the path through the wooded Sarah J. Michaels Park.

The park was by no means a park in the traditional sense. Like most things in Derry, it was outdated and uncared for. Most of the trees were dying even in the spring, and fresh grass had not been seen since Sarah J. Michaels herself was still alive.

To top it all off, there was no park. Just a rotted jungle gym set that high school dropouts hung out by to smoke.

Bill made a mental note to avoid them.

The dead flora under his feet crunched as he made his way along the beaten dirt path, ducking this way and that to avoid stabbing himself on a gnarled tree branch hanging in his way.

Something scampered across the path behind him, and Bill looked back, wondering what had made the sound. He figured it was a squirrel, or maybe -

_SNAP_

Bill yelped in pain as the branch he'd walked into snapped, but not before clocking his temple harshly.

Before he could even process the pain, he heard a shriek above him. He didn't even have time to look before a figure roughly his size came crashing on top of him, sending them both into the dirt.

Something was ringing in Bill's ears as he gaped, suddenly unable to breathe. His shoulder hurt, and one of his arms felt sore from where the figure had fallen on it.

He sat up, still desperately trying to refill his lungs.

Through the ringing, he heard a voice.

"Breathe! It's okay, I've got you... C'mon, that's it"

Slowly, clarity and oxygen alike began to return to Bill. After gulping down a few deep breaths, he shifted into a kneeling position and faced his attacker, ready to tell off whatever idiot was sitting around in a tree before a rainstorm.

Just his luck, the words instantly tied themselves into a knot as soon as his eyes met dewy brown ones and freckles.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, peering at his through a mess of dark curls.

Bill coughed, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. He reminded himself it was the boy's fault, and he glared as best he could with his heart pounding.

"Y-yes, no...no th-thanks to you!" he snapped.

The other boy's eyes creased in something like annoyed concern.

"No thanks to me?" he asked indignantly, folding his arms across his chest.

Fighting his stutter, Bill stomped his foot in the dirt as he tried to force the words out.

"Yes! Wha...what... what k-kind of... of idiot sssits around in trees at the p-park?"

"For bird-watching!" the boy said in snobbish tone, as if it was the most ordinary and popular hobby in the world. He suddenly looked around, as if he'd remembered something important.

"Speaking of which... oh, great. Now she's gone!"

Bill frowned, still rubbing at his shoulder.

"Who?"

"The finch! She was pretty big, too!" The boy said matter-of-factly, struggling to his feet while making no signs of an attempt to help Bill up.

"R-right. The fin...the finch" Bill muttered, standing.

"Maybe she - "

The boy paused, patting at his chest as panic started to rise in his expression.

"Where are my binoculars?" the boy demanded.

Both boys looked up towards the tree. Sure enough,  a pair of binoculars on a leather strap dangled precariously from a branch about thirty feet up.

"Shit! If they fall, dad'll kill me!" the boy said, stamping a foot on the ground in frustration before turning towards the tree. "I'll just climb up and get - "

As if one cue, lighting suddenly cracked across the sky. A few moments later, thunder sounded in the distance.

Bill turned to the boy, expecting him to still be angry. Instead, he was staring at the binoculars with something akin to fear in his big brown eyes.

He felt bad, in a way that had _nothing_ to do with the way the boy started to worry his lips.

Bill glanced at the ground and scooped a rock off the dirt path.

"G-get ready to-to catch!" he said, hurling the stone as hard as he could at the branch. The wood snapped, and the binoculars fell into the boy's waiting hands.

They look at each other for a moment.

Then the rain came.

Both boys shrieked as the downpour began almost instantly. Through the sounds of pouring rain, Bill heard a voice and felt a slick hand grab his.

"C'mon! My house is just a block down!"

Bill tried to protest that no, he wasn't a baby, and yes, he could walk home by himself, even in the rain, but the boy was already dragging him along down the path, which was quickly turning to mud.

Lighting flashed again and Bill tightened his grip around the boy's hand.

* * *

"Mr. Denbrough?" Bill looked up from his fidgeting hands into the face of the stern voice.

"I just phoned your mother. She says she will pick you up in the morning when the storm is over"

Bill nodded, not wanting to speak and give his tongue a chance to betray him.

"Don't mind father. He's a bit strict" said the boy.

As it turned out, the boy had a name. The name was Stanley Aaron Uris, Stan for short, and he was Jewish.

At least, that was how he'd introduced himself, after Ms. Uris had frantically wrapped both sopping wet boys in blankets and made them sit by the radiator chiding

"Boys, get warm! _Oy vey_ , one of these days you’re going to send yourselves to an early grave!"

"N-no kidding" Bill agreed.

Stan stood up, offering a hand to Bill. "Here, I'll show you my room" he said, not letting go of Bill's hand as he led him up the stairs.

Bill was hardly surprised to find Stan's room utterly impeccable. Even the bedclothes were crisply folded. Books lined the shelves in alphabetical order, and shelves held small trinkets and knickknacks that showed no sign of dust.

The only thing a bit out of ordinary was a large black box on Stan's nightstand. Unlike everything else in the room, it was worn and fading. It appeared Stan had pushed aside a few books and an alarm clock to place it where it was. As Bill got closer, he saw Stan's name etched into the wood with what appeared to be a pocket knife.

"What-s-s this?" he asked, reaching out to undo the latch.

Stan smiled. "My collection"

"Of wha - oh!"

Bill stared at the contents of the box with something like admiration. Feathers of every color, shape, and size filled the small container nearly to the brim. He picked up the top feather, a black and white one, as delicately as if it were made of glass.

"You-ou c-collect these?" he asked in awe.

Stan nodded, carefully taking the feather back from Bill and replacing it in the box. As he did so, Bill noticed a flush dusting his cheeks.

"It's just a stupid hobby of mine" he muttered, looking pleased and embarrassed at the same time as he retreated to the window.

Bill followed.

"I th-think it... it's nice" he said truthfully.

Stan didn't respond for a moment.

"I see you walking home down this street sometimes" he said quietly. "You're usually with your brother. George, right?"

"Georgie" Bill corrected. "He's b-been sick. B-but we use...usually walk home together"

He didn't add that he always went slowly down Stan's street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the curly hair and freckles.

He didn't add that as soon as they'd met face to face he was completely smitten.

He didn't add that even now his heart was pounding in his chest and he wanted to kiss this boy he'd barely met because he'd never felt this way before.

He didn't add any of that. Instead, he turned his face towards the window and watched the rain pour as Stan's hand stole into his like a secret.

* * *

They kissed for the first time in the shade of the same tree they'd met under, the sour bite of an apple still lingering between their tongues as the first leaves fell around them.

It had been over a year since they met, and yet Bill almost felt that the lips on his belonged to a whole new person.

Or maybe he was the one that was new.

A hundred nights of books and movies and video games were gathered in his heart, each sweeter than the last even as the bitterness of the world around him closed in like a hungry maw.

Stan had always kept the darkness at bay.

And then he didn't.

Bowers had called them fags in the cafeteria in front of the whole high school and Bill had run from the school, from Stan, from the name he didn't want to reaffirm.

Stan found him and held him while he cried, whispering apologies again and again until their faces were dry.

Stan hummed an old Jewish hymn that soothed Bill's aching chest like a balm.

Stan pulled Bill into his lap and cupped his face as if it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Bill didn't dare speak. He doubted his trembling tongue could handle it. So he nodded, eyes half closed and expecting to fly open at any second as his alarm went off and the universe shattered.

Instead, Stanley Uris kissed Bill Denbrough like he was the only thing that mattered. He parted his lips and pressed their tongues together until they were dizzy and drunk and laughing like lovesick fools.

Bill tasted like rainstorms.

**Author's Note:**

> Since Wyatt Oleff plays young Peter Quill, does that mean Chris Pratt will play Stan in IT part 2?
> 
> PS I have no idea who Sarah J Michaels is I just made up a name


End file.
